


ONE NIGHT IN CHARLOTTE

by Anne_Carter



Series: One Night [5]
Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-11 06:39:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16470635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anne_Carter/pseuds/Anne_Carter
Summary: Opening the message, he grunted in confusion.  ‘I got your number from a mutual friend.  It’s tempting to dance with the Devil.  Those who do think they’re picking out the music.  They don’t realize they can only pick from the Devil’s playlist.  Be certain this is what you really want to do.’  Seth frowned and re-read the message.  “I hate cryptic shit like this,” he muttered to himself.  “What’s wrong with just saying what you mean?”





	ONE NIGHT IN CHARLOTTE

**Author's Note:**

> SEQUEL TO ONE NIGHT IN PROVIDENCE
> 
> Events of RAW 10/29/18.

Seth Rollins leaned against the wall of the arena and breathed in the cool air. A lot of the talent had already arrived that afternoon, and there were just too many people staring at him from the corners of their eyes for him to feel comfortable. He knew his friends, especially Finn and Bayley, would be finding him soon. He just wasn’t sure what he was going to tell them.

He was startled when the phone in his pocket buzzed. Pulling it out, he groaned at the name on the display. Sighing, he answered. “Hi.”

“Hi? You send me a text that says _‘Please don’t come to RAW tonight. I’ll explain later’ and all you can say is ‘Hi’?”_

“Well…” Seth’s voice drifted off, unsure of how to explain. There was silence for a few moments, then he heard a gentle reply.

“Talk to me, Seth.”

Seth looked around, then walked to where the huge production trucks were parked. “I’m honestly not sure how to explain, Kurt.”

Kurt Angle rubbed his forehead and leaned back in his chair. “Okay. Does it have to do with what happened last week?” To Kurt, Seth’s snicker had a touch of hysteria about it. To give Seth a chance to recover, he continued, “I talked with Roman last Tuesday. He’s got a good attitude.”

“Better than I’d have,” Seth mumbled. He took a deep breath. “Yeah, the text had to do with last week. With Ambrose.”

_‘So, Dean’s now Ambrose, huh?’_ Kurt inwardly sighed. “Did he give you any explanation?”

“Nah. I tracked him down Monday night…well Tuesday morning,” Seth sighed. “The result of a very uninformative three-minute conversation was a door slammed in my face.”

“Didn’t get punched, huh?” When Seth grunted a ‘no’, Kurt frowned. “You should’ve been punched. At least once.” When Seth didn’t reply, Kurt added, “Seems to me that’s what Ambrose would’ve done when you showed up Monday night…well, Tuesday morning.”

Seth sighed. “He’s been…different since he came back.”

“Has he?” Kurt put his feet up on another chair. “Seems to me he was just holding a lot in.” He heard Seth breathing over the phone and had a mental image of gears and wheels turning in Seth’s brain. “That’s just what I could see from the outside looking in.”

Seth knew Kurt was right, but this wasn’t the time or place to discuss it.

“So why am I not supposed to show up on RAW tonight?”

Seth rubbed his jaw. “With Cena being out of the World Cup, I had this…okay, maybe a little paranoid thought that Ambrose would jump you and…”

“And beat the crap outta me to take my place?” Kurt chuckled. “Yeah, Corbin would love to replace me.”

“Until last week, I would never have had that thought,” Seth grumbled. “He has so much respect for you, Kurt. When he heard about you breaking up that fight in Chicago, he said ‘Kurt’s still got it’.”

“Well, I hope I still ‘got it’ in Riyadh,” Kurt laughed. “I’d planned to show up at RAW tonight just to irritate Corbin if nothing else. But I thought I’d get in a little extra training instead. So, I’m cutting a promo on my phone and sending that to be used for tonight to hype the event.”

Seth relaxed. “Thanks, Kurt. I’m probably paranoid but…”

“But maybe you aren’t,” Kurt interrupted. “And there’s no need to put temptation into anybody’s path. Dean’s or Corbin’s.” He hesitated. “You gonna confront him tonight?”

“Gonna try,” Seth nodded, leaning against one of the trucks.

“Then we **will** be talking in Riyadh,” Kurt promised. “Just make sure you’re able to **get** to Riyadh.”

 

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

 

Seth wasn’t sure if either Finn or Bayley were satisfied with their talk, but Seth had reassured them as much as possible. He’d spotted Renee in catering. She’d given him a warm smile, and he’d nodded in return. It was all the contact he was going to have with Dean’s wife. She was in the middle enough as it was.

He was walking around backstage when the show started, half lost in his own thoughts, half trying to spot Ambrose even though he knew Ambrose would keep himself hidden until he was ready to come out.

Would he jump Seth from behind in the hallway? Not yet, Seth admitted to himself. That would come later. Now was like the opening moments of a match. They were just locking up…testing the strength of the other…looking for a weakness or opening.

“You replaced Cena with Lashley? Because he beat up on Balor?!”

Seth froze, hearing Stephanie McMahon’s shrill voice. Looking around, he realized he was standing outside the Trainers’ room. He carefully peeked inside and saw Baron Corbin sitting on a table, holding an ice bag against his head with both hands. His cell phone rested on the table next to him, Stephanie’s voice coming through on the speaker.

“Cena didn’t earn his spot,” Corbin explained. “And Lashley’s going to be indebted for the opportunity.” When Stephanie didn’t respond, he added. “And yeah, because he beat up on Balor.”

“Cena definitely wouldn’t feel he owed us for the opportunity,” Stephanie agreed. “And as long as Lashley can be controlled…” There was silence once again. “Lashley will be an asset to the RAW team.”

“That’s what I…”

Seth grinned as he stepped away when Stephanie abruptly hung up on Corbin. _‘He’s gonna find out how quick she and Trips will turn on him. Probably sooner rather than later.’_ At this point, all Seth cared about was that Kurt was still in the World Cup. He didn’t give a damn if Ambrose attacked either Lashley or Ziggler if he wanted to get into the World Cup.

And if Ambrose **did** get into the World Cup, he’d want to beat Seth in Riyadh in front of the world…not backstage in Charlotte.

 

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

 

It was comfortable in the shadows. They were like a second home to him, welcoming him back after a long absence. He slowly shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he looked down at the ring and listened.

“All the love and support you guys have sent out to Roman Reigns, that is powerful. That is beautiful, and I thank you on behalf of him.”

As the crowd chanted ‘Thank you, Roman’ his lip curled. _‘Where were all those chants when Roman was bustin’ his ass day in and day out in that ring? You appreciate him now that he’s fighting for his life?’_

“I’m happy I’m the tag team champion for the third time. But I’m sad because I should be celebrating with my friend, my partner, my brother, Dean Ambrose. But that’s impossible because Ambrose turned his back on me, turned his back on the Shield, turned his back on all of us.”

_‘Somebody cue the violin. What was it JBL used to say? Oh yeah, wah wah wah.’_

“I’ve been wondering all week if maybe that wasn’t my fault. Maybe what I did four years ago…maybe Ambrose didn’t forgive that.”

He slowly released the breath he’d been unconsciously holding. _‘So that’s how he’s going to play it. He’s the victim. Poor baby.’_

“The only person who has the answers is Dean Ambrose. So, Ambrose, I’m asking you as a friend, as a brother, come on out here and tell us why. You wanted the spotlight, Dean? It’s all yours.”

_‘Friend? Brother? Damn, he’s layin’ in on pretty thick.’_

As everyone turned to the stage when Ambrose’s music started, he rolled his shoulders twice. When the music stopped and Seth began looking around, he slowly walked out of the shadows. Some fans immediately spotted him and started pointing. He saw Seth notice them and turned to look at him standing at the stop of the stairs.

_‘Understand now, ‘little brother’?’_

He could see the flash of anger in Seth’s dark eyes all the way from the ring to where he was standing. “Oh, last week you turned your back on the Shield. This week you mock the Shield.”

He stared down at Seth through hooded eyes. _‘Didn’t expect him to go there right from the beginning.’_ He continued to stare silently down at Seth in a silent battle of wills.

“You know, at least when I put the knife in your back I had the decency to stare you in the eye and tell you why I did it. So, walk down those stairs, I know you know how to do it. Walk down those stairs and face me like a man.”

_‘Yeah, shoulda known it wasn’t going to be easy. Kinda forgotten how Rollins can use words to cut like a knife.’_ He walked back and forth, then slowly walked down two steps. He heard the crowd begin to cheer and stopped. He deliberately brought the mic up to his mouth, then slowly tapped it. _‘Recognize this? Think you can figure it out? Figure **me** out? Good luck with that, Rollins.’_ He looked at the crowd then lowered the mic and allowed his lip to curl slightly in contempt as the crowd began chanting ‘You sold out’.

He saw Seth slowly shake his head with a half-grimace half-smile on his face. 

“You know what, man? You really are a cold-hearted bastard.”

_‘Expected better.’_ Then he saw the anger on Seth’s face and braced himself.

“On the most emotional night in the history of the Shield, you spit on us…on everything we stand for! On the night Roman leaves to battle leukemia, and you make it all about you! Somehow, someway, you make it all about you! You want it so bad, you selfish son…I swear you got it! Because I’m fixed on you!” He made the ‘watching’ motion with his fingers, pointing them at himself and then at the man standing at the top of the stairs. “For as long as I live, I will make your life a living hell.”

_‘As threats go, that was really kinda…predictable.’_ Despite his plan of remaining silent, he felt his mouth opening to speak. But he wasn’t given the opportunity.

Seth’s voice lost the anger. It was smooth now. Like honey dripping with venom. “You know, maybe it wasn’t just a nickname,” he calmly mused. “You really are a soulless lunatic.”

He felt rage surging through him. _‘That sorry-assed little…’_ He snarled, feeling his tongue slowly lick his bottom teeth. He was suddenly aware of the roar of the crowd and looked to one side, almost in surprise.

“You don’t wanna come down here? You don’t wanna come down here?” Seth taunted him. “Stay up there. I’ll come up there and beat an answer out of you.”

He watched as Seth threw the mic and the glittering InterContinental Title belt to the mat. Realizing he’d lost control of the confrontation, he mouthed, “Oh really?” with widened eyes in Seth’s direction. Before Seth could climb over the barricade, he turned and walked away, knowing Seth wouldn’t follow…this time.

 

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

 

Seth had showered, changed clothing, and gotten his luggage to his car before he thought to check his phone. He relaxed. No message from Roman meant his oldest brother was hopefully peacefully sleeping and not worrying about the chaos surrounding his younger brothers.

Then he frowned at the message from a number he didn’t recognize. Opening the message, he grunted in confusion.

_‘I got your number from a mutual friend. It’s tempting to dance with the Devil. Those who do think they’re picking out the music. They don’t realize they can only pick from the Devil’s playlist. Be certain this is what you really want to do.’_

Seth frowned and re-read the message. “I hate cryptic shit like this,” he muttered to himself. “What’s wrong with just saying what you mean?” He quickly typed a message to someone who might recognize the number.

_‘Do you recognize this number? I’ve no idea who it is or what it means.’_

By the time Seth had gotten to his hotel room, he had an answer…one that had him suddenly sitting on the side of the bed in shock. Never let anyone say that Kurt Angle left him hanging in favor of allowing him to get an easy night’s sleep.

_‘Yeah, I know that number. I’m not sure what it means. But if it wants to explain it, I’m sure he’ll find you in Riyadh to tell you. That’s the Undertaker’s personal number.’_


End file.
